For the Consent of a Mother
by Baliansword
Summary: This was my contribution for the story exchange, and I would like to open it to everyone. Thanks to Martine, for giving me the great opening line that allowed me to write the story. I hope everyone enjoys. As always, read, and if you can review.


This short story was created for a gift exchange, and I cannot thank """" enough for giving me this amazing first line to begin with. I was glad to be a part of this, and now welcome everyone to read and review! ~Baliansword

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**Title: For the Consent of a Mother**

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As long as it had been since Alexander had seen his mother, for Hephaestion it had been even longer. Even had he been given the opportunity to prepare for the arrival of the one person in the world he least wanted to see, he still would have had the same lingering reaction. Upon turning the corner he found himself frozen, contemplating whether to turn around and return to his chambers, or if he should continue forward and hope that the dream-sent illusion would fade away before he reached it. Swallowing, he took a step forward but found himself pausing again when Alexander rounded the corner. Dressed in a loose fitting pair of Persian slacks and an ornamental robe the king's gaze drifted, looked to Hephaestion, eyes searching the cerulean pools of his best friend for a reaction. Unable to speak, Hephaestion crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at the woman that had abandoned him so many years ago.

"Lady Amyntor," Alexander said after clearing his throat, "I am sure that your journey here depleted your energy. Please, make yourself at home, and rest. Hephaestion will be with you shortly, but he is needed now."

"Yes," she nodded, eying her son as only a mother could. It sent a shiver down Hephaestion's spine, a feeling that he had hated since their last meeting when he was a child, only ten then. She dipped her head slightly to the king as a sign of loyalty and respect before turning and making her way back down the hall with two maids following her every move. When she was out of ear-shot Hephaestion released the deep breath he had been holding in and turned away from Alexander. It was of little use, for Alexander was at his side within seconds, keeping pace even though it was a good two hours before he would have normally been awakened.

"You invited her," Hephaestion accused him, stopping in the dim-lit hallway. They would be unnoted here, giving them some semblance of privacy, which both were missing terribly in the last months in Babylon. With secret passage ways and too many servants to count they never had a minute to themselves alone, and every chance they had to be together was squashed by interrupting generals or annoying Persian dancers from Darius' harem.

Hephaestion lifted his hands as if to shove Alexander, but thought better of it and balled his hands into fists and dropped them at his sides. Shaking his head he started to walk away, but Alexander reached for his wrist and pulled him back. The king wrapped his arms around him, pressing their chests together in an intimate fashion, Hephaestion's heaving stilling as he felt the soothing touch of his only lover. Alexander gently rested a hand on Hephaestion's warm cheek, the touch familiar and well missed by the second.

"How many times have you asked me to bring my mother to Babylon?"

"You are a king," Hephaestion offered, defiantly refusing to give him an estimate of how many times he had suggested Olympias be brought from Pella to this new and elaborate world. "She would be safer here, away from Macedonian politics and the antics of Antipater."

"And your mother would not be safer here?"

"Olympias is more a mother to me than that woman. Whereas your mother is a Queen, my mother knew only to abandon me at her first chance."

"Yes, and she ran away with her lover, your father's favorite servant, and sought you out only after Amyntor's death. This is all true, all tragic, but she is no less your mother," Alexander whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Hephaestion's shoulder as he wound a finger in his dark hair. "If you can accept your mother's presence, then perhaps I will eventually in turn invite my own mother to join us. Besides," he said with a soft sigh, "there are reasons for bringing your mother. Rumor has it she has strong opinions about her son being Chilliarch."

Hephaestion knew all too well what her opinions on the matter would be. She had learned from market-gossip that her son had befriended the young king Alexander, and later that the two seemed inseparable. When she had surmised that the two were lovers, Hephaestion did not know, but a letter had arrived in his hands many years ago, written in her hand. It detailed her disapproval of the matter, and for the first time Olympias seemed more gracious and warmhearted on the matter. _In private love as you will,_ he remembered hearing Olympias tell Alexander while he diligently waited outside, _but in the eye of Macedonia you will take a bride._

His own mother had not been this kind. She gave no room for privacy, or for love –probably because she had gone so long married to Amyntor, whom she had hated. Her initial words read as hatred, embarrassment for having a son that would deny her grandchildren, a son that would pass no name, a son that would be doomed to become some sort of educator. As harsh as her words were, Hephaestion was proud to say that he had not become a philosopher as Philip, or his mother, had suspected he would.

He pushed the memories from his mind, bringing his focus back to Alexander. He could not deny loving him, but there were times like these when he tried his patience.

"I will never forgive you for this," Hephaestion said, putting a hand on Alexander's well-defined chest before pushing him away. Alexander smirked, slightly pleased with the anger that Hephaestion allowed to overtake himself. Hephaestion was always serene, perfectly in control of his emotions, but while the king loved this most about him there was some satisfaction in knowing that beneath a calm exterior Hephaestion did feel anger and contempt as much as the next man. To Alexander it made him seem more real. To Hephaestion, he felt as if he were surrendering himself to the memories he had fought so long to suppress.

"You will forgive me in time," Alexander told him confidently, matching his stride again. "She is one woman. Compared to the Battle of Issus, this should be simple."

* * * *

Simple, Hephaestion noted, had been Alexander's first understatement. He watched as his mother sat down at the grand table, disgust already apparent on her well-worn features. Her dark eyes first wandered to the Persian dancers, specifically Bagoas, and then she looked at Alexander. She frowned and made a noise in the back of her throat before picking up her glass. Taking a sip of the Persian wine, she wrinkled her face and then spat –even Hephaestion could not believe this rudeness –the wine back into the cup.

"Does the wine fail to suit you," Alexander asked, lifting his own golden cup and taking a drink. He seemed to be mocking her but Hephaestion was unsure. Instead of participating in the conversation he would have been more pleased to excuse himself. Only the presence of the other Companions around the table kept him in place.

"Nearchus," his mother said, making sure everyone could hear her. "Your aunt tells me there is news of a new bride and child in your letters. Did you take a barbarian wife as Alexander did, as my only son has, or did you wed a woman of Macedonian descent?"

Several eyes crept to Alexander. Had another said it he would have been infuriated, but this was not the same. Even Hephaestion was surprised that Alexander did not scold her. Instead, he laughed and shortly after doing so answered for Nearchus, who seemed too stunned to form words.

"He has taken a wife whose family traces back to the great hero Hector," the king said, raising his cup in a quick toast. "His son was born four months ago, healthy and strong like his father."

"And when do you plan to give me a grandchild," Lady Amyntor asked, dark eyes narrowing like slits as she turned her focus back to her son. Hephaestion emptied the rest of his wine before slamming the cup down on the table, louder than anticipated.

"He will have his own heir in time," Alexander interjected, still enjoying playing with the raven-haired woman. "If there is anyone to fault on the matter I am afraid it is I. I demand too much of your son. I give him very little time to tend to his new wife, as I keep him busy keeping my inventory. However, he never complains –one of the reasons I have named him my second."

"Is that the reason?"

"Mother," Hephaestion looked up from his plate, shoving the stuffed pheasant out of his way. "Your hostility should be directed at me, not at your king. It would be wise to remember where you are."

She conceded to this and kept her mouth shut for the rest of the dinner. Hephaestion watched her give several looks of disapproval to the other generals, servers, and even Alexander. Many went unnoted but when Ptolemy made a joke about Alexander's new likeness to Achilles, his hair now touching just below his shoulders, his mother looked up and made a noise in the back of her throat again. She purposely looked away from the king as he laughed and told Ptolemy that the likeness was merely coincidence, he had not intended it, but now that it was mentioned he would think twice before cutting the length.

When she retired for bed a collective breath was let out and the generals at the table seemed to sit easier in their seats. Hephaestion had finished three more cups of wine in this time, and the pheasant still remained untouched. Alexander joked with the others, and Hephaestion laughed when the occasion called for it, but for the most part he tried to think of nothing. When others began leaving Alexander stood and came to his side, reaching down and lifting him carefully by the shoulders.

"You've had too much to drink," Alexander informed him, allowing him to lean slightly against him as he started toward Hephaestion's chambers. They were the second largest in the palace, used for visiting kings when Darius had reigned. Yet this meant that they were opposite Alexander's, and from the dining hall one of the farthest rooms away. Hephaestion coughed and shook his head as the world spun around him.

"I'm not as bad as I feel," he muttered, reaching out and placing a hand on the unwavering wall. Alexander stopped and let Hephaestion steady himself. Then, in the draped darkness, he put an arm on either side of Hephaestion and successfully pinned him against the wall. Leaning forward he kissed him, his lips barely touching at first, but as the kiss progressed the king became needy, his lips pressing harder against the general's. At the first sound of a noise Alexander pulled back and surveyed the hall for intruders on the intimate moment, but found none.

Hephaestion was giving his best attempt to stay awake, to keep the wine from controlling him, but Alexander knew that he could only go so long before falling to the ground in this state. Over the years it had been Hephaestion who refused wine, drinking only half a cup at rare occasions, and at a night's end he would be the one to escort a drunken king to his room. He had done this diligently, in fact, better than any servant would have been able to do. There had always been a tender touch to reassure Alexander when he murmured while he pulled blankets over him, or removed unnecessary clothing. Staring at him now, the king wondered where this gentleness had come from –surely not from his war-hardened father, and his mother though a woman lacked the conviction to act as one, having always been described as rude when Alexander had asked informants about her. Leaning closer once more, Alexander pulled Hephaestion into his arms, this time locking his own desires away, and together they returned to his rooms.

"Why couldn't you leave this alone," Hephaestion murmured in a dazed, drunken whisper that could only raise a smile from Alexander as he pulled on Hephaestion's chitin. He knew that Hephaestion would likely not remember any of his words in the morning, so it would not hurt to tell him. Pulling the sheets back from the bed he carefully arranged his companion.

"You have always been stronger than I am," he explained as he reached for Hephaestion's chiton, carefully removing it. The king threw it to the floor and pulled the sheet back over Hephaestion. "If you can handle your mother, I know I will be able to handle mine."

"Hmm…"

"And sometimes," Alexander admitted, brushing his fingers over Hephaestion's hair, "I feel as if I have let you down. You have always convinced me to see things in Olympias' perspective. Even when I think I hate her, you remind me that I love her. All the while, I've let you and your mother become more distant, and I can't help but think I should have done the same for you."

Alexander glanced down at Hephaestion, but had known that he had fallen asleep somewhere near the beginning of his explanation. Smiling to himself the king leaned down and kissed his temple softly before rising and returning to his own chambers. He knew that in the morning Hephaestion would wake with a splitting headache, and still it would not compare to the presence of Lady Amyntor.

* * * *

The cool water seemed to burn as it hit his face, waking him from the drifting state between sleep and awake that he had been stumbling through for what seemed like an hour. The water did nothing to soothe his headache, but he winced and pulled a pair of Persian trousers on, ignoring the way the silk brushed against his thighs. Rubbing his temple he collapsed on the nearest chair. Yet to his surprise, there was an urgent knock at the door before it swung open. Alexander appeared, hair pulled behind his shoulders and tied with a strip of leather, robe billowing out behind him.

"I'm glad you're awake," the king said, passing where Hephaestion sat. He moved to a small desk and pulled the top drawer open, causing Hephaestion to wince at the sudden sound as Alexander began digging through flattened pieces of papyrus. Alexander slammed the drawer shut and picked up a sealed box on the floor, resting it on the desk before flipping the lid off.

"What are you looking for," Hephaestion asked, picking up a cup of water and draining the contents. He drank so quickly he thought he was going to choke but he managed to take a breath before rising and making his way to Alexander's side.

"A ring," Alexander answered, picking up several rings and setting them down on the lid of the small chest. "I remember seeing it, but I can't remember where."

"What ring?"

"Mmm," Alexander shrugged, sifting through another set of rings that he had given Hephaestion during one of their summers in Pella. "I will know when I see it. Do you mind if I keep searching while you have breakfast with your mother?"

"I'm not doing anything with my mother."

"Fine, as the man that loves you I can do nothing," he said, pressing a quick kiss against his cheek. "But as your king I order you to. We'll call it a diplomatic emergency –she's driving me mad. She woke in the middle of the night and kept walking back and forth through the hallways. You know how these halls echo."

"You could have traded rooms with me; I don't remember anything that happened last night. I was at the dining hall, and this morning I woke up with a throbbing headache."

"Well, you did not miss anything. Go meet your mother, don't keep her waiting. If I have to spend the rest of the day looking for my ring I'll find it."

"Are you sure I have it," Hephaestion asked, shrugging a robe over his shoulders. If he had to meet with his mother he wasn't going to spend a great amount of time dressing for the occasion. His head throbbed, his chest ached –if he could have gone back to sleep he would have.

"You have all of my treasures," he explained, glancing at yet another jeweled ring before throwing it down; he particularly hated rings that had been sent from Cassander as good-faith attempts to keep their friendship. "If I don't give them to you then they disappear. Besides, who better to have them than you?"

"Says the man sending me to my doom," Hephaestion mocked as he reached for another box underneath a chair in the corner. He set it down on the edge of the desk and then made his exit. With two boxes it would take Alexander at least an hour to look at every piece of unneeded jewelry –perhaps enough time for Hephaestion to ask his mother to leave Babylon.

Yet when he sat down before her, he knew that it would take more than a request to get her to leave. She drank the first cup of water offered to her in a matter of seconds and then sat back in her chair, awaiting for a tray of fresh fruit to be brought and set down before her. As she waited she watched him. He was silent. The only thing that kept Hephaestion from screaming his frustrations at her was the knowledge that Alexander would not be pleased with such deliberate actions.

"I hear that Alexander returned you to your bed last night, how interesting."

"Interesting," Hephaestion asked, drinking from his own cup. He wished it were something heavier than fruit nectar. "Please, explain to me how that is interesting to you. Perhaps there is something I have overlooked."

"Yes, there is something," she snapped, throwing her cup onto the table. For a split second, she managed to make even Olympias appear sane. "Our name is a noble one, Hephaestion, and you do nothing with it. You dote on a child king, half deranged from his upbringing from his whore of a mother, and you do not take a wife! There is no heir to our name should you die in one of these trivial battles."

"Shut up mother," Hephaestion fired back, for the first time not feeling ashamed of raising his voice to her. To his surprise, she did quiet. "My name was given to me when I was born, I did not choose to become Hephaestion Amyntor. I chose to become Hephaestion –Philalexandros. Either you begin to accept that I will love as I like, or you leave. I do not dote on Alexander, I share his vision of a world where all men are free, where there is civility that unites all of the seas. And no bride is going to change that."

"How dare you!"

"No, how dare you? You were absent most of my life, and now you come to tell me how to live it? I love Alexander, mother, no other."

He pushed his chair back and began to make his exit. Her pleading cry stopped him.

"Would you deny me a grandchild before I die?"

Hephaestion hesitated, and then turned. A single tear fell down his mother's cheek as she rose. For a brief moment he saw her for what she was, a woman not behind a wall of anger, but a true mother.

"I have seen the best physicians and they cannot help me. I came here to beg of you, give me a grandchild. At least wed, so that I know I have contributed to this world –that I have not let your father, or mine, down."

"I will not…"

"Are you worried that Alexander will not let you? You said you love him, will you deny him marriage to produce and heir?"

"I deny him nothing."

"And does he deny you? He keeps you like a pet, Hephaestion, can you not see this? You are just his amusement at night when he is cold. Otherwise he could do without you."

"Get out."

"Get out," she asked, somewhat shocked at his request. He pushed himself away from the table and stood. There was no way to deal with her. he wanted her gone, wanted her to leave and never come back, even if she was his mother.

"Leave Persia, mother, and never come back, and after you reach Macedonia forget that I am alive, because I refuse to speak to you again. Do you understand me?"

He did not need her to answer. He let her sit there, wallowing in her own hatred.

* * * *

As he approached the room one of the young pages changes his posture, standing more erect than he had been. Alexander motioned with his head at the door, and then asked, "Has he been here long?"

"A few hours my king."

Alexander nodded and entered the king's chambers, dismissing the pages as he did so. He knew that Hephaestion had ordered them never to leave entirely, which meant they would be around the corner waiting, but that was enough privacy. Two decades of frustration barely showed on Hephaestion as he sat behind Alexander's desk. There was darkness in his cerulean eyes, sadness, that Alexander had never seen before. Yet as Alexander came closer he looked up, seemingly more alert already. For a moment Alexander wondered if he was always this pensive when alone.

"Your mother is leaving."

"I asked her to," his closest general admitted. Taking in a deep breath he looked up at his king. "If you were proving a point, you did. If you do not want Olympias here, then you do not need to invite her.

Alexander frowned; "Are you angry with me?"

"No," Hephaestion said, but even as he did he stood and came around the edge of the table. As he went to pass the king an arm stopped him, blocking his escape. Hephaestion reached up, his hand wrapping around Alexander's wrist, but even when he tried to move Alexander's arm he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he let Alexander back him against the table. Shifting, he let Alexander place his hands on his hips and lift him into the table. As Alexander stood between Hephaestion's legs, he reached up and wrapped his hand in the light brown hair at the base of Hephaestion's neck and pulled his lips to his. Hephaestion kissed Alexander greedily, putting his own hand on Alexander and dragging him closer. He wanted to dissolve into him. He wanted to forget the rest of the world.

"I'm not mad," Hephaestion gasped when they parted for breath. He rested his forehead against Alexander's, listening to the sound of his chest as it rose and fell. Alexander rested his hands on Hephaestion's thighs, his fingers digging slightly into the muscled flesh, and as Hephaestion waited to see what would happen, he dragged his fingers down to Hephaestion's knees. Alexander's hands slid to the back of Hephaestion's knees and he pulled him to the edge of the desk.

Alexander pushed the Persian robe away from Hephaestion's shoulders. The thin material pooled around Hephaestion's waist and Alexander grabbed it with one hand, throwing it to the floor in one simple gesture. Hephaestion made simple work of Alexander's chiton, surprising even Alexander with the swift motions. As the king's kisses trailed down to Hephaestion's chest, Hephaestion reached around and kneaded his fingers into Alexander's skin. Alexander nipped his chest in return, and Hephaestion laughed slightly against his shoulder. Alexander drew back, smiling himself, and went back to kissing him. As he started to pull away, Hephaestion leaned forward and started kissing him again. Each time Alexander backed away, Hephaestion came closer until Alexander had drawn him to the bed.

The world faded away, as they both hoped it would, and half an hour later they lay twined in one another's arms. Alexander swept a lock of hair away from Hephaestion's face and gently kissed his forehead. It was something he only did when he was feeling guilty about something. Hephaestion ignored Alexander's searching gaze and rested his head against Alexander's chest.

"I'm going to bring my mother to Babylon," Alexander whispered quietly, carefully stroking Hephaestion's head. Hephaestion seemed to tense against him, and Alexander knew that he was going to protest. Before he could, he added, "You love her, and you're right –in my own way I love her as well."

"She will be pleased," Hephaestion answered, diplomatic as always. He traced Alexander's abdomen with two fingers, barely touching Alexander's skin. Hephaestion did this because he knew that it would drive Alexander wild. In fact, as he was doing it then Alexander shifted beneath him, adjusting to relieve the pressure that was building between his thighs.

"I have something for you."

As Alexander went to sit up there was a knock at the door. Hephaestion groaned, but rolled out of the bed and collected his robe from the floor. Alexander did the same, waiting for Hephaestion to secure himself on the balcony before he pulled the door open. Once he did, a very angry mother burst into the room.

"I want my son back!"

"What do you mean," Alexander asked, shutting the door with a sigh. He turned and pulled his robe just a bit tighter while glancing toward the balcony. Hephaestion did not appear and he knew that Hephaestion would not save him unless necessary.

"My son, he follows you around like a whore. I want you to send him back to Pella. Send him back Alexander!"

"I won't do that Lady Amyntor. I don't own him, he goes where he likes. I'm merely lucky enough that he chose to follow me."

"He follows because you will not let him go."

Hephaestion let the cool breeze soothe him, even though he still heard his mother arguing with Alexander inside. He wondered if she would ever leave, but she seemed to be taking her time. Drawing in a breath, he listened as the door opened and then slammed as his mother disappeared. Slowly he returned to the safety of the room. Alexander sat on the edge of the bed, watching him intently.

"She does this because she loves you."

"I love you," Hephaestion whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the king's forehead. "Despite what she says, I followed you here for love, nothing else."

* * * * *

The next morning Hephaestion woke to the touch of Alexander's lips against his own. He smiled, wrapping his arm over Alexander and pulling him close. Hephaestion was not going to miss his mother, that was one truth, but he was willing for a thousand more mornings like this one. He would never tire of feeling Alexander's thighs twined with his own, his lips trailing over his chest, or the way the ends of his ragged blond hair tickled him during these lingering moments.

"Are you awake," Alexander teased, kissing him again.

"I'm always awake when you need me to be," Hephaestion answered, running a hand over Alexander's cheek. Alexander sat up and reached for something on the nightstand, then handed it to him.

"I found your gift. Open it."

Hephaestion opened the small box, sitting up slightly as he did so. A golden ring stared back at him, the seal of the king. It had belonged to Philip before his death, and Hephaestion had kept it safe for Alexander for years. Alexander couldn't bring himself to wear it, which Hephaestion attributed to pride, but its importance was still the same.

"This is yours," Hephaestion said, carefully setting it back in the box before Alexander took it from him and slid it onto Hephaestion's finger.

"No," he replied, "this is yours. Perhaps you can't wear it in public, but between us, you are my king. I love you Hephaestion, and I wouldn't be able to bear it if you ever forgot that."

"I love you," Hephaestion whispered in reply, drawing Alexander closer to kiss him once more. He would never forget. How could he?

* * * * *

These words had been said years ago, but they had burned in the back of Alexander's mind for years. Today, the words cut through the silence and seemed to echo down the hallway as he heard Lady Amyntor approaching. He barely had the strength to look up as the guards pulled the doors open for her entrance. It was not her approach that bothered him, nor the gasp that escaped her mouth as she came nearer to the center of the room, but instead the scream that escaped her lips as she collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"My son," she cried, forcing Alexander to wince from where he sat, his head in his hands as he stared at Hephaestion's lifeless body on the pyre. His eyes were bloodshot from days of tears. He would have cried at that moment, had any moisture been left in his body. Instead, he lifted his head as Lady Amyntor came forward. Age had touched her since he had last seen her –gray covered her hair and lines defined the sadness in her face. He expected her to hit him, but instead, she threw her arms around him and sobbed against his shoulder.

"He loved you," she said through her tears. "I was a fool not to give you my blessing. He always loved you, only you."

She pulled away, and looked into the eyes of the king; "I know that I disapproved for all of these years, but know, Alexander, that I know you loved my son. I only wanted his happiness, that was you. Forgive me…"

Alexander could barely hear her. Instead, he stared at the ring still on Hephaestion's hand, never to be removed.

23


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